Why is it I can’t resist all the(bad for you food?)
and if you keep me from it,
it puts me in a mood.
I turn into a demon,stomp about,and slam the doors.
Diets they don’t really work I’ve tried and failed them all!
Jogging turns into a stroll,I don’t like it as such,
I end up hot and sweaty,and have to breathe too much.
Kids pass me by munching on pies and fish and chips,
I admit I’m tempted to grab them from thier mucky mitts!
Windows,call me to feast my eyes on scrumptious tasty treats.
I press my nose against them a chubby
tear rolls down my cheek.
Time to put the kids to bed,
a story of course.
The three little pigs sound quite nice,with some apple sauce.
It’s no good it’s not worth it,
I’m filled with woe and sorrow.
That sausage roll is calling me.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
Maybe?

This poem was written/submitted by Lynne Hannah Cannon.